Introduction to Anthologies NIIIGHTSSS
by Marrrrrrr
Summary: An explicit counterpart to my collection of prompt fics. Submit requests either here in the comments or on my tumblr, illbeoutback..
1. Troy and Abed in Britta in the morning

_A/N: I wrote this first chapter waaaay back in August for the kink meme over on the community-tv livejournal page. The prompt (from anonymous) was "Abed/Britta/Troy - Troy and Abed in the morning feat. Britta."_

"3...2...1..." Troy counted down under his breath. Next to him, Britta grunted in a low, guttural voice.

"Troy and Abed in the morning!" he and Abed said, simultaneously. They were seated on their couch, in the middle of their apartment. They'd abandoned their usual stools in deference to their guest, worried that she might topple over over during her demonstration. She sat between them, naked as the day she was born, legs splayed open, brow furrowed and wet with perspiration as she worked her fingers in and out of her aching, quivering sex.

"Our guest today is Britta Perry," Abed said, running his hand up and down the length of her naked inner thigh. "She came on the show today to discuss female masturbation, but she was just so excited to be on that she started even before the cameras started rolling."

She shuddered at his touch, pressing into her clit with her palm and rubbing it in small, fast circles. Abed leaned in, planting a trail of kisses down her shoulder blade and nuzzling into her neck, making her moan wantonly.

"Usually masturbation is a private activity," Troy said, "but some women like being watched. Isn't that right, Britta?"

"Mmmmhmmm," Britta hummed in agreement.

"Some women enjoy rutting into their own hands as their friends watch, don't they Britta?" Abed asked as he fondled her heaving breast.

"Y-yes," Britta said, her voice shaky. Troy cupped her cheek in his hand, turning her face towards his and staring into her eyes. She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks redden even more deeply. Abed's mouth closed over her nipple, his tongue flicking at it in a way that made Britta gasp. Troy darted in, kissing her forcefully, wrestling her tongue into submission. She lost herself then, coming against her fingers, orgasming right there, between two of her closest friends in the world.

She drew back from them, closing her legs and bringing them to her chest, rocking back and forth on the couch. Her eyes were closed, and she's still trembling slightly, but she hummed a happy tune under her breath.

"Britta will be back later in the show, but for now we're going to go to a quick word from our sponsors while she recovers," Abed said as he lightly stroked Britta's back.

"Troy and Abed in the morning!"


	2. Do you want to try something different?

_A/N: This is also a prompt from that old kink meme that I've always wanted to go back around and get back to: "Troy/Britta - she likes it when he comes on her OR she likes it rough. If you want to bring up how that might conflict with Britta's feminist ideals (in a constructive way!) I wouldn't be upset."_

_I really liked the idea of the two of them having an intimate conversation about kinks, but couldn't figure out how to combine that with sex at the time. I'm not sure if I made it work here, or whether it disrupts the flow of the sex scene. Let me know! I also threw in a little twist at the end._

#

_"Different? I don't understand. You don't like the way we have sex?" He sounded worried._

Britta hears him breathing, somewhere behind her, but she doesn't turn to look. She's on her knees, her rear sticking up in the air as her fingers work in and out of her wet, dripping cunt, holding herself up with one shaky arm. She knows his eyes are boring into her, watching her play with herself. But he's totally silent.

She hears him stand, suddenly, and walk over to the bed, but he doesn't do anything, doesn't even touch her. His breathing is louder, deeper, and she needs to feel him inside her more than anything in the world. She wiggles her ass at him, provocatively. He responds by slapping it, hard, and the sting of his hand against her flesh makes her whimper and flinch forward.

"Quiet," Troy says, his voice hard, and she shivers. "I'm going to fuck you now. Get ready." She brings her hand away from her sex and lays on her forearms, presenting herself to him.

_"No! Of course not. I love the way we fuck." It was intimate, and trusting, and usually involved lots of eye contact, lots of reassurances. Lots of 'is that okay?'s and 'I like that's. "It's just that..."_

He grabbed her hips, his fingers grasping into her skin. He entered her roughly, but she's so excited, so _ready_for him, that his cock slides in easily, stretching her. Filling her. She presses her face into her mattress, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out as he hammers into her. He's so deep. And his balls slap into her clit at the end of every forceful thrust in a way that makes desire spike through her cunt. Her breath is louder, quicker and more insistent. She moans. She can't help it.

He spanks her again, hissing sharply, and she screws her mouth shut, willing herself to stay silent, to keep the ecstasy bottled up in her, so it'd twist and turn into itself, kinking and knotting her insides.

_"What?" he asked, turning in bed to look at her. She pulled the covers a little bit tighter around herself. "I'm sorry if I came off as defensive. I shouldn't have made it about me. But you can tell me, Britta. I know there's plenty of stuff I'm into sex-wise that'd seem pretty weird to most people. But you don't judge me about it, so I'm not gonna judge you." His hand found hers._

"Such a good little bitch," he says, slapping her other cheek this time. She grunts, feeling a hot, electric tingle spread spider-like out from her core. His fingers wrap into her hair, pulling her head up, and she loses it, crying out. She spasms, contracting around the velvety smoothness of his cock as it drives into her.

He responds by redoubling his pace, and she feels a delicious pull in her scalp as his fingers tighten in her hair with every stroke. She let's his touch guide her, pushing back into him with the same rhythm. His prick is hitting her exactly the way she loves, the way that makes her entire pelvis feel like it's on fire.

_"Sometimes... sometimes I just want..." she paused, thinking, trying to figure out how to phrase this. "Sometimes I want someone to treat me the way I think I deserve. You know... in my darker moments." They'd talked about that before, about the way she thought others saw her. About how she sometimes thought she was a hateful, wretched thing, undeserving of love or understanding._

_"You mean... like..." Troy was hesitant. "Mean... and stuff?"_

"Horny little cunt!" he almost spits. "You like this don't you? Being treated like a cheap fucking-" he thrusts into her, even harder, "-WHORE?" She moans again, earning herself another rap on her sensitive, reddening rump. "That's good. Cause this is what you're best at, isn't it? Taking a man's cock up your slutty little fuckhole."

_"Yeah..." she said, turning her head away. He curled his fingers into her palm, brushing it ever so slightly. "It's kind of like a... pressure release for my anxieties I guess. It's... I feel kind of weird about it, given my politics and everything. But I don't know, I think maybe that's part of the appeal?" She looked over at him, wincing. "God, that sounds really pathetic doesn't it? Selling out my ideals for an orgasm?"_

He stops, suddenly, and she hears the boxspring squeak as he brings a leg up onto the bed next to her. There's a pressure on her back, gentle but firm, and she let's him push her chest back down into the mattress, her arms flattening on either side of her head. His hand comes around her waist to strum at her clit, and even though the attention to her sex breaks the illusion that this isn't about her pleasure, she doesn't complain. Not when his fingers are so quick and skilled as they play with her.

He takes several deep breaths for a moment, his dick still and motionless inside her, before he begins again. He's higher over her, and penetrates even more deeply into her. His thrusts are shorter, but he can put more of his weight into them now, and he plows her into the mattress. His tempo is starting to break down, but between the angle and the direct stimulation of her clit, the heat builds even stronger and quicker than it did before.

_"Hey..." he said, lightly, bringing his arms around her. "It does __not__. Sex stuff is always weird, even if all you're into is like straight missionary or whatever. You're putting a part of yourself in another human being! Or, like, the other way around I don't wanna be sexist. In any other context that'd be crazy, but because it feels really good we don't give a shit. Because feeling really good is the best._

_"I want to make you feel good, Britta." His breath was hot on her ear. She whimpered as his fingers traced the opening of her sex. "I want to do it so bad. More than anything. Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."_

She cums again, mewling uncontrollably deep in her throat. His fingers are lightning fast against her clit, and the orgasm stretches out, her tension refusing to plateau and drop off, and it swallows up another set of pulsing contractions before it ends. He's leaning over her body now, and she can feel the sweat dripping off him.

"Get on your back," he says, and his voice is higher now, softer. He slides out of her, stepping off the bed, and she obeys, rolling over. She can see his face for the first time; his mouth is hanging half open from exertion, his eyes big and caring. He's obviously broken fully out of character now, because his expression is one of total and complete adoration. Her eyes go to where he's pumping his fist up and down over his thick, hard cock. He moves in again, pressing his dick against her clit and thrusting against it. He comes, spraying her stomach and chest with his semen, before collapsing on top of her on the bed.

_Her breathing was quick, flirty. She quivered, and pressed her elbows into her chest, flattening her breasts. She gnawed on a knuckle, moaning. "O-okay..." she said, buzzing little shapes forming in the corners of her vision as her legs began to spasm. "But not here. My -gnggh- my place. Later." There'd be time for talk about safe words and specifics later, when need burned less intensely through her core. She lifted herself, swinging her hips over his and straightening up, pressing into his chest for stability. "More privacy." His hands come up to grip at her waist as she straddled him._

"I love you," Troy says, panting as he presses her into the mattress, seemingly not caring that he's smearing himself with his cum as he rubs his body into hers like this. He kisses her, slowly, and she allows herself to enjoy this for a moment. The loving sweetness of his tongue and hers exploring, each trying to map every inch of the other. They finally have to break, Britta gasping for breath, grapsing uselessly at him, too far gone to do anything more than run her hands up and down his back. "I love you," he repeats as he kisses down her neck.

"I love you too," she says, closing her eyes, taking a moment to luxuriate in the attention. He seems to be trying to make up for the lack of physical contact up till now; his left hand rubs up and down her still quivering thigh as his right caresses her hair, his fingers gentle and soothing this time.

_Afterwards, after the sex and a brief cuddle, they dressed and headed out into the kitchen for breakfast. Even though they always sleep naked when she spent the night, she kept a change of clothes here. She'd been surprised by how little she'd freaked out about that, when it had started happening. She'd bolted from relationships over way more minor symbols of commitment, but with him it just felt... practical. Why wouldn't she save herself a drive home in her previous day's outfit?_

_She looked at him from across the table, over the bowl of oatmeal he made for her. They made eye contact. Abed was saying something, talking about some point of trivia or something, but she wasn't listening. She smiled at Troy, a little nervously, and he smiled back._

_She couldn't wait to get him alone, where they wouldn't have to restrain themselves for fear of being overheard._

"Did... did you like that?" she asked, finally, after enjoying his ministrations for a while. He nodded, breathing deep, his forehead pressing into her shoulder. "Yeah? That get you off?" She adds an edge to her voice that she doesn't really feel, for his benefit. "Answer me!"

"Yes," he says, weakly, still panting.

"Thought so. Freak. Getting off on taking advantage of me." She shoves him, forcing him to roll off her. "Such a naughty little boy."

_"D'ya... d'ya think you can do the same thing to me, too?" Troy asked suddenly, a little while later. They were in her car, driving to Greendale._

_"Huh?" she asked, unsure for a moment what he meant._

_"You know." He paused. "That whole... being mean during sex thing. Do you think we can try... we can try it with you being the mean one?" He sounded so hesitant, so unsure._

_"Oh! Sure," she said, a little surprised. She guessed she really shouldn't be, though; Troy usually liked it when she took charge, she'd just never thought to add that particular element into the mix. She grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers. "Of course, Troy. We can try anything you want." She felt a little flutter of excitment swell up in her chest. "I want to make you feel good too."_

She reaches into her nightstand, pulling out a metallic, bullet shaped vibrator and a bottle of lube. She also grabs the white towel she'd left draped over the side of the bed, and throws it unceremoniously at him.

"Here. I don't want you to make a mess all over my sheets, you dirty little perv." On his hands and knees now, he drapes it under his pelvis, his ass sticking up into the air. She twists the bottom of the vibrator, letting him hear the noisy _vvvvvrrrrrrrr_ of the little motor inside. She grins.

The night is still young.


	3. No one calls me baby

It was unusual for Troy and Britta to be up this early. Annie hadn't seen either of them up earlier than 10, when her roommate's girlfriend spent the night, ever since Abed had told them he knew they were having sex and they'd been able to dispense with their morning gymnastics routine. So to see that Troy's bedroom light was shining from under the door, at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM?

It was unthinkable. Annie had to get up this early for her forensics lab and even she thought she was crazy for doing it.

So, half out of curiosity, half out of a desire to be a good roommate, she walked up to the door, intent on knocking and asking if either of them wanted an omelette.

Her fist froze inches from the door as she heard Troy cry "Noo!" But it wasn't in his usual voice. Annie recognized the fake British accent. She frowned.

It was a weird enough curiosity that she was able to smush the little voice in her head telling her it was rude to eavesdrop. Were they playing Inspector Spacetime? That sounded adorable.

"Oh yes, Constable." Annie winced. The fact that she recognized Britta's impulse to go heavy on the cockney only made her feel more embarrassed for her.

"Minerva, you don't understand! Thoraxis negatized your positrons! You've got to fight it, or he's going to get away with the Insectoid Maharajah's Time Crystals!"

Annie frowned. That sounded… weird. She felt a rush of cold go up her spine.

"Oi! I'm the Inspector here, Reggie." There was a sudden buzzing sound and Annie's eyes went wide. "I'm the one with the Quantum Spanner. So what I say goes."

There was a squeaking of bed springs.

"OH NO, INSPECTOR! DON'T PUT THAT SPANNER IN MY PLOP PLOP!"

Annie stepped away very, very quickly.

#

"There you are!" Troy said, looking up as she came out of the bathroom about a half hour later. He and Britta were sitting at the kitchen counter, and the blonde smiled at her as she dabbed a teabag in and out of the saucer in front of her.

"Morning Annie!" the blonde said, hiding a yawn. "It's so early! I don't know how you manage this everyday. Me and Troy are heading into Denver to catch a play an old highschool friend of mine is in, otherwise I don't think I could have pulled myself out of bed. How was your shower?"

"You were in their a while." Troy said, grinning. "I hope you didn't bust the hot water heater, you know the landlord's a dick about fixing stuff."

Annie hadn't used much hot water at all. The shower had been long, but it had been cold. With lot's of scrubbing. And hateful thoughts about how her stupid mother had been right about eavesdropping.

"Oh, well, I'm sure it's fine," she said, revealing none of that to either of them. "You can probably fix it, right? And if you're missing any tools I'm sure Britta can help you out."

They looked at each other, confused, as she turned and walked into her room.


	4. Spanning Space and Time

"Inspector Minerva?" Britta asks, looking down at the small, black DVD case. She hadn't seen this one with the rest of Abed's collection. It took a second for the implication of the name to dawn on her. "Wait… there was a female inspector?!"

They're lying on his bed, huddled under his big heavy blue comforter. Britta's arms are exposed to the cold air of Troy's bedroom as she holds the DVD, and she wants desperately to dive her hands back under the blanket, to have it rejoin the rest of her and Troy so they could soak up the heat their bodies were generating together. But she wants to know about this Minerva person even more.

"Yeah," Troy says, grinning at her. He snuggles in closer under the sheets. "Isn't it great?"

"I thought the Inspector didn't have a name?" Britta asks, still confused. It says "Don't Call Me Baby" along the bottom. And the art looks so 1970s. Surely this is a joke? Surely you're supposed to laugh at Minerva, to find her attempts to defy the order of things amusing, to realize that they're a farce designed to mock and deride those who thought the roles society assigned to men and women weren't necessarily set in stone?

Troy doesn't seem to think so though. He's still grinning, still, in spite of her trepidation. "She decided she wanted one pretty early on, to distinguish herself from her male predecessors. She gets kind of- it's kind of a running gag that none of the villains take her seriously at first, that she's a woman so she's no longer smart enough or strong enough or fast enough to stop them." He pointed at the four words, apparently this Minerva's catchphrase, printed along he bottom of the DVD case. "She had to deal with a lot of crap."

"Was she, though?" Britta asked, surprised at her excited she was getting. Inspector Spacetime was always something she'd kind of half-put up with for Troy's benefit. It could be fun and silly now and again, but the show didn't speak to her the way it seemed to to Troy and Abed. "Smart enough, I mean? And strong enough?"

"Of course!" Troy says, frowning as if he couldn't understand this question. "She's still the Inspector."

Britta grins, looking back down at the DVD. "Written by Melissa Daly…" she reads as she brushes a hand across the packages face. Across Minerva's face. "Who's that?"

"She's the woman they brought in to take over after Sir Anthony Bonham-Pease had to go to rehab for his heroin addiction," Troy explains. "I looked her up on the internet. Apparently she wrote for a magazine called Spare Rib or something? Which I don't get cause she worked in a lot of themes but _none_ of them had to do with barbecue, trust me, I was watching for it."

Britta actually gasps. "There was a collection of Spare Ribs that I used to devour back at the Riverside Public Library!" She was actually shaking with excitement now. "This lady's like a real, actual kick ass second wave feminist, Troy! And a British one! Why haven't I heard about her or Minerva before? Abed said that the only women were Constables when I asked about it that one time you invited me to the Dreamatorium!" That visit had not gone so well. Abed had practically ignored her presence, and Troy was stuck in the awkward position of trying to get his friend to include her in more of the dream scape rendering while also trying to make sure Abed didn't feel too "threatened" by her. And that was before they'd started dating!

"Yeah, Abed really doesn't like her. I had to find out about her from the internet! And it took forever to wear him down enough to let me borrow the DVD. Just getting him to admit that the DVD existed and was in his collection was a pain in the ass." Troy frowns, anticipating her reaction. "It's not cause of the politics! Honest! Daly just ignored a lot of the established canon and that's… kind of a huge no-no for most Inspector Spacetime fans."

"Uh huh," Britta snorts. "Yeah, I bet the fact that she introduced a strong, confident, kick-ass female character to the world had nothing to do with any of it."

"Okay, okay," Troy says. "Maybe for some of them. Okay, fine, a lot of them, especially back then. But not Abed."

Britta sighs, relenting. "Yeah, you're right. Abed's not a misogynist. He's too adorable." She laid her head on Troy's chest. "So what's the catch? Come on. I know how this works. There's no way that there's no catch. A cool, pretty hero that's pretty much _designed_ with me in mind?" She looks up at Troy. "Just tell me what it is and get it out of the way."

"Well… there _is_ only the one season," Troy answers. "Sir Bonham recovered from heroin addition pretty quickly and wasn't happy about the show's new direction. He was a member of a small right wing party that campaigned on the vote being take back from women."

"Ewww, gross!" Britta sticks out her tongue in distaste. "That's like the time I found out that the guy who wrote Downton Abbey was a Tory." She'd refused to watch it again after Troy after she'd found that out, and seen the way the show was shaping up. The only servant who stood up for himself was obviously being set up as the villain The villain And a stereotypically selfish gay villain at that. "Well, I guess it'll be good for as long as it lasts, I guess…" Britta opens the small CD try on Troy's laptop, and popped the first disc in.

"Yeah! And hey, afterwards we can always make up our own adventures! There's no reason Reggie couldn't have traveled with Minerva at some point! There's a five year gap in between Season 23 episode 15 and-"

Britta let some of the complicated canonical justifications Troy seems to be walking himself through slip right past her; that particular aspect of Inspector Spacetime never really drew her in. She studied the packaging again. "I really like her hat! It's cute! And she's really pretty, whoever the actress is…" Her eyes fell on the small, purple device in the woman's right hand. She hasn't really paid it much attention before now; it'd seemed like pretty much every other one of those weird magic wands the Inspector always had that Troy insisted be called by whatever it's proper name was. But the more she looks at it, the more familiar looking it becomes. "Uh… Troy…"

"Yeah?"

She points at the object in question. "This, uh-?"

"Quantum Spanner!" he supplies helpfully.

"Yeah. This spanner thing… You don't think it looks a bit… familiar do you?"

"What do you-" his eyes widen as Britta reaches down the side of the bed to grab her purse, extracting the small, phallic shaped little doohicky that she'd ordered online especially to help scratch one particular itch Troy had. The resemblance seems to have become apparent to him too. She grins at him. "No way…"

Britta holds it up to the package. Her's is a little rounder, a little bit snugger, and the large blinking light isn't there. But the color's the same, and the differences in shape are actually pretty minor compared to how eerily similar they look. "Yep. That looks pretty identical." Her grin deepens. "Looks like Minerva and I have similar tastes…"

The opening crawl starts up on the laptop, and Britta shuts up. She actually wants to pay attention to an episode, for once.

That doesn't stop her from moving her hand under the blanket in a way Troy appreciates. It's nothing she hasn't done before for him, usually when there's no time for anything else. It's different now, though. She's slow and even, and no matter how much Troy urges her with his moans or the vulgar little way he moves his hips she keeps him tied to her pace. As much as she's enjoying getting him riled up (and she _does_ so enjoy doing that to him), she wants him to last a good long while.

She's going to have to render _something_ after this.


	5. AC School Dreams

You're peeking out from behind the curtain and you see her, there, on the stage and you know that she's trapped. She's in a loop, repeating over and over and over and over unable to break free of the pattern she's in. It makes you hurt to see, you don't want to see it anymore, so you rush out on stage.

It feels familiar. You've done this before, somehow you know.

"What are you doing here?" she asks as you twirl her around. She's smiling, amazed behind the fear still clogging her face.

"What I should have done a long time ago," you say, even though you know that's different. You tear the teapot off her and toss it aside, and that feels the same. And it feels the same when she pulls the bulky foam hat off her head and tosses it off stage.

But when you reache out, grab the black leotard she's wearing and tears, you know something is different. The crowd gasps, but you don't care. You palm one of her now exposed breasts, pressing it into her chest and deftly massaging it as you bring her lips to yours.

Her mouth is sweet, as sweet as the time you tasted it in that acting class. And she's just as good at kissing back then, now, because you feel that same light-headed feeling as your tongues caress and you moan into her mouth. You breathe in through your nose, inhaling her smell. You reach into her hair, undoing her bun, letting the curly blonde tresses fall free so they can waft more of her delicious scent into your nostrils, that smell that you ache to experience again.

And then she's on the floor and you're on top of her, and you're tearing the tear you made bigger, until the whole thing's just a rag that's barely hanging off her and you enter her and she's tight and warm and her legs come around your waist and you gasp and she whimpers and hugs you tight and you pound into her as hard as you can and it's everything you want, everything you could wish you could do. And she's whispering your name "_Troy… Troy…" _in the way that you always wished that she would and if you weren't such a coward you would have gotten her to do a long time ago.

But then you hear a noise you hate, and know everything's going to go away soon. You grab her tighter, trying to hold on, trying to keep her with you, but she's falling through your grasp like sand and there's nothing you can do and-

#

Troy's eyes wrenched open. He was lying on his stomach, his pillow gripped tightly in his arms. His erection was throbbing, almost painfully, as he pressed it into the mattress of this little shitty room he hated. He was breathing hard, his heart beating lightning quick in his chest.

He closed his eyes again, struggling to control his breathing. His pillow smelled like drool, not lavender, and the feel of the cotton of his boxers is much, much less enjoyable than what he imagines Britta's cunt is like.

He groaned. His mind hated him, it was the only explanation for all these dreams. He sat up and pulled himself out of bed. He had maybe a half hour to shower before his first A/C repair class of the day. They liked to start early over here.

He sighed, thinking of his dream. Fuck Benjamin Chang so hard. He turned his alarm clock off.


End file.
